Happy Endings
by GorensBrownFolder
Summary: Is Clayton Webb really happy working for the CIA?


This website is a recreational endeavor.  
All JAG characters are the property of Donald Bellasario, Bellasarius Productions, Paramount and CBS. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is made from this endeavour. Casey McDaniels is the sole property of the author and as such is protected by the copyright laws of the United States and Australia .

Happy Endings

Slamming door.  
"Honey I'm home"  
I call out.  
To no-one.  
I've come home.  
Yet again.  
To nothing.  
Funny how you forget that.  
When your minds on the job.  
The last 36 hours have been hell.  
Sent to somewhere I shouldn't have been.  
To do things I can't talk about.  
To people that probably didn't deserve it.

I hate my job sometimes.  
Hate what we do.  
Sometimes that unclean feeling.  
Sinks below the skin and just settles there.  
I think about the people I've known.  
People who died for a cause no-one knew about.  
No medals on their chests.  
No glorious funerals.  
Just grieving relatives and friends.  
Mourning the loss of someone.  
They thought they knew.  
Maybe one day I'll be one of those people.  
The thought depresses me.

The bottle of cognac stands on the tray.  
Brandy balloon at the ready beside it.  
I pour a glass and sit back on the sofa  
A thin layer of dust sits on the coffee table.  
I should probably clean it.  
But I won't.  
What's the use, just gets dirty again anyway.  
Not like anyone I'll be entertaining.  
Will bother to look at the coffee table.

That particular thought amuses me somewhat.  
I've lost count of the women I've bought here.  
Losing myself in them for a time.  
Feeling just for a night  
The passion some people feel every day.  
I envy them...those people.  
I think back to the women in my life.  
Beautiful, leggy and cold.  
Not one of them was ever after nothing.  
All of them had agenda's of their own.  
Social climbers and double agents.  
It's hard to tell who's more dangerous sometimes.

The cognac disappears quickly.  
I gaze at the empty glass.  
Empty.  
A word I'm getting use to.  
I remember when I started this.  
I thought I was leading a fulfilling life.  
Saving the people I loved.  
From things they couldn't see.  
Defending my country.  
That should be fulfilling...right?  
But today as I got off the plane.  
I watched a man come out of the gates  
And he was swamped by his kids.  
They threw their arms around him.  
Screaming 'Daddy'.  
And a smile lit his face.  
A smile that said it all.  
He had them and he had everything.  
And then it hit me...  
I have nothing.

So I sit here on a sofa I hate.  
Drinking cognac I didn't want.  
And wishing my life away.  
But the clock strikes 7.00pm  
And the next phase of my life begins.  
Loyal Employee.  
Dutiful Son.  
Pathetic how easily my life can be defined.  
I place the glass on the counter top.  
And go change for the evening ahead.  
Black tie.  
I hate seeing those words on an invitation.  
It means I'm working.

I suppose to look at my life from the outside  
It must seem exciting.  
A never-ending round of parties  
And world trips.  
But from the outside.  
You don't see the loneliness  
The times when you sit alone  
Waiting for the next assignement.  
Knowing that when you leave  
You might not return.  
That you'll leave your family.  
With a shoddy explanation.  
And a medal.  
To say you died bravely.

The doorbell rings.  
My partner no doubt.  
She's good to work with.  
Younger than I expected.  
Not as 'green' as I thought she'd be.  
There must be a decade at least between us in age.  
That should worry me...but it doesn't.  
Sometimes I find myself watching her.  
And suddenly realise I'm smiling  
She understands what I'm feeling.  
We've talked about it...the lonely times.  
The lies you tell yourself to make it through the day.  
The lies you tell others to keep them safe.  
That never ending cycle of life and death.  
That is so much a part of what we do.  
Who we are.

I open the door and let her in.  
Casey greets me with a knockout smile.  
And for a moment I can believe that there are no lies.  
No barriers between us and the rest of the world.  
She looks stunning in a black dress.  
She turns in a slow circle for me to admire the outfit.  
She's part woman, part child.  
She looks me over, straightens my tie.  
Walks over and pours herself a balloon of cognac.  
Sipping it slowly as I watch her.

"Your coffee table could use a clean Webb."  
She said with a smile.  
Trust Casey to notice the table.  
I walk over and take the cognac from her.  
"You're not old enough to drink!"  
I explain sarcastically.  
She grins at me.  
"Come on then 'Pops' lets get this over with!"  
She says referring to the mission at hand.  
She picks up her bag.  
I collect my keys.  
And we shut the door.  
Leaving behind the loneliness.  
Leaving behind truth.

"Do you believe in fairytales?"  
She asks me later that night as we dance.  
"I gave up on fairytales a lifetime ago."  
I say laughing at the question.  
"Did you give up on Happy Endings too Webb?"  
She asks a seriousness in her blue eyes.  
"I thought I had."  
I answer, realising that I'm speaking the truth.  
"But now?" she asks.  
"Now...maybe I'll rethink it."  
I say smiling at her.  
"Have you always been this nosey?" I ask.  
She throws her head back and laughs.  
And somewhere inside me a small piece of emptiness.  
Gave way to friendship.


End file.
